


Breakfast

by Johniarty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aprons, Cooking, Daddy Kink, Ficlet, M/M, Morning Sex, johniarty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johniarty/pseuds/Johniarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One good deed deserves another...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> For BottomJohn - welcome back, Sam!

In truth, John’s apron left nothing to the imagination. He stood at the stove, frying eggs for breakfast, completely unaware of the rich brown eyes sliding over his bare skin. Jim, silent as always, crept into the kitchen and admired the smooth curve of his arse beneath the haphazard bow. It was pink; a gift from Daddy, of course, that stood out when paired with the blond of his hair and the stormy blue of his eyes. In a way it seemed innocent. Frills caressed John’s thighs with each movement, painting the picture of the world’s lewdest maid.

Mere hours before Jim’s cock slid out of him, leaking all over his taut skin as he shoved John down on the bed with a giggle. Nothing in the world felt as beautiful as a well-fucked John Watson, hair a mess, cheeks flushed, skin red from the force of their sex. This, though? Seeing him cooking naked in the early morning sunlight? 

This was a whole different level of perfection.

Jim slid his arms around John’s waist, completely nude, his cock pressing against the cleft of John’s cheeks as he kissed up the back of his throat. “What a surprise… Cooking breakfast for me? My, my, Johnny, you’ve really outdone yourself.” John stiffened at first, surprised by the contact, but his body relaxed as he realized Jim wasn’t upset with him.

"Oh, have I? Take it your last boyfriend made you go out for it?"

"Mmhm. Had to have him killed, I couldn’t take another quaint cafe at eight in the morning. All people talk about are their writing projects or their children or how good they are at drinking the swill they call coffee. This is nice, though. Such a good boy for Daddy…"

"Dammit, Jim, I’m trying to  _cook_. Can’t you wait until I’m done?”

The shift of John’s hips gave him away. Jim knew just what to say to make his blood boil, and god, it felt glorious. His hands splayed over John’s thighs, nails leaving red welts as he scratched his way up to his doctor’s groin. “You know this is more important than breakfast, Johnny. I can  _feel_ it, your need to be fucked - why else go through all this trouble? You deserve it. A hard cock filling your arse, a tight grip on your hair, bruises on your thighs from the countertop… How loud do you think you can get? How fast will you come? You don’t want to burn my meal, after all…”

"Jesus, fuck! You’ve made your point, alright? Just shut up and fuck me before I get so distracted I burn myself."

Popping open the small bottle of lubricant he’d carried with him, Jim knelt down and rang his tongue over John’s puckered hole. “Still open… That’ll make this much easier. I’m so glad you’re such a slut, Johnny, or else we’d waste precious time…” He slicked his fingers and pressed them into John, three at once, spreading the lubricant along his passage. Every time, he felt amazed by the sheer heat of John’s body. Perfect… John was perfect.

"It’s not enough," John whined, spreading his legs and gripping the counter for support. "Hurry, Daddy…" His voice, tinged with desperation, only urged Jim on. 

"I don’t want to hurt you, Johnny… Just a bit more…" The pads of his fingers brushed John’s prostate, the nerves swollen in his need. Above him John let out a shuddering gasp and thrust down, burying Jim’s fingers in his skin.

Content with the attention paid to his body, Jim pulled his hand back and slathered lubricant over his aching prick. As he pressed into John, he gripped him by the shoulders and rolled his hips in small circles. Barely breaching his arse, the head of his cock teased the stretched muscle almost unbearably.

"Jim -"

"Say it  _right,_ Johnny,” Jim chided, drawing himself back.  


"Daddy! Fuck me! Please, god…"

That was all Jim needed to hear. His hips snapped forward, burying his cock inside John in one swift motion. John let out a strangled cry of his name, body tightening as he accepted him. Slowly, he began to move, the wet sound of his cock sliding into John’s muscle growing more loud with each thrust. John bent forward, eager to take Jim as deep as he could. His own prick throbbed against the counter, but he didn’t dare touch himself.

Not without Daddy’s permission.

"Harder," he grunted, slamming his hips back against Jim’s thighs. 

"Is that how you ask for things?" Jim whispered, nipping at the back of his throat. "I thought you were a good boy…"

"P-please!" This time his words are more desperate. "Please, Daddy, fuck me harder!

Grinning, Jim obliges. John’s thighs slap against the counter as Jim tangles one hand in his hair, jerking his neck back. “Tell me how good it feels, Johnny Boy. Tell me how much you love my dick in your arse.”

"So good," John gasped, closing his eyes against the sting in his scalp. "Love it, love how hot you are, how  _hard_ , how full you make me feel… I need it, I need you to fuck me, I never want to be empty.”

"You won’t be," Jim swore. "I promise you you’ll never be empty. Daddy’ll take care of his sweet boy, won’t he?"

"Y-yes, Daddy! Always, always so good,  **fuck** …”

Jim’s other hand dropped, sliding between John’s prick and the apron.

"Do you want to come?"

"Yes! Yes, Daddy, let me come, please!"

"Rut against my palm, then, Johnny. Show me how you’d fuck me if I  _let_  you.”

With those words ringing in his ears, John fucked himself into Jim’s hand. His hips moved fast; rough, quick thrusts, though now and again he drew out the motions. Deep, long, slow… varied enough to make Jim’s head swim at the thought.

Maybe one day…

"Come, Johnny. Come all over your apron, make a mess for Daddy and maybe I’ll make a mess for you…"

Screaming Jim’s name John pulsed over his fingers and onto the pink material of his apron. His entire body shook; tremors worked their way down his thighs as his muscles tightened and clenched around Jim.

Jim’s orgasm gripped him and he pulled out, swiftly stroking himself to completion with his cum-stained hand. Grunting, he spilled onto John’s proffered arse, made all the more prominent by the bow of the apron tied overhead. 

He took a moment to savour the sight while John caught his breath, sweating and disheveled while the eggs sizzled in the pan.

"Johnny," he cooed, clicking off the burner. "You burnt them."


End file.
